


My Soul

by Faramirlover



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, soul marks, soul mates, tiny angsting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faramirlover/pseuds/Faramirlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of Soul Mates, Jim wants nothing to do with the gibberish marked on his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt on Tumblr: the AU where your soulmates name or what they first say to you is on your wrist but Jim doesn't know what his says because it's in an alien language he doesn't recognize ((Vulcan)) Please? ^v^
> 
> I tweaked it a bit.

He’s been covering his mark up for years, curling script hidden under an artificial skin layer. He hasn’t seen it in at least a decade, not looking down when he has to change the patch, doing it by touch alone, feeling out the raised bumps of the word, never doing it near a mirror. He’s well practised at avoiding it.

He doesn’t remember what it said, didn’t understand the language at the time and the memory has faded enough that he couldn’t possibly remember it well enough to translate.

It’s a blessing and a curse.

He doesn’t believe in soul mates, doesn’t believe that there’s one person in the universe that is perfect for him, doesn’t want to believe that there’s someone out there waiting for him. Searching. Hoping.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by a heavy blow to his shoulder and ,distracted, he tumbles straight to the floor without even trying to catch himself.

“Captain. You are distracted. Again,” Spock doesn’t apologise for besting him physically, only helps him to his feet and frowns with the barest twitch of his eyebrows.

This seems to happen all the time nowadays. Spending time in close proximity to Spock leads to the inevitable conclusion of him lost in his thoughts about soul mates, and love, and all sorts of other stupid notions.

“Sorry Spock, I was thinking. Let’s go again.”

“Perhaps we should discuss whatever is on your mind so that you may concentrate fully on our sparring.”

“Most people would just ask what’s up.”

The eyebrow quirk clearly tells him that Spock is not ‘most people’.

“I was just thinking about soul marks. How utterly useless they are. You know, I never really thought about it, do Vulcan’s have soul marks?”

“No, Captain, Vulcans as a species are able to ascertain mental compatibility through a single mind meld. A mark to designate a suitable mate is unnecessary for a race with psionic abilities.”

He refuses to admit to himself what he’d been hoping for, an impossible hope as it turns out. His soul mate definitely isn’t Vulcan.

“Ah, so you wouldn’t really understand how much of an annoying complication they are.  I wonder if that means humans can only be soul mates with other humans. Interplanetary romances would be a total butt ache.”

“I have no evidence to provide to either support or disprove your hypothesis, Captain.”

There’s a firm disinterest in his First officers voice is enough to make him shut the conversation down.

“Of course not, Mister Spock. If you don’t mind I think I might call it a day. I just remembered some paperwork that needs completing.”

“Of course, Captain. Is there still time in your schedule for our chess match?”

He sounds hopeful, if Vulcan’s could sound hopeful.

“I wouldn’t dream of cancelling. I’ll see you at 2100 in your quarters.”

He peels off a rough sort of a salute and escapes the training rooms before he can say something idiotic.

OOOOOO

The hot heavy pressure of an actual water shower was entirely necessary. The heat did wonders for his aching muscles and, even though it’s a waste of his water credits, he let his mind drift and only when the bathroom was full of steam did he realise how long he’d been standing there, mindlessly scrubbing his slight belly pudge in a comforting circular motion.

He shut off the water and stepped out to stand dripping in front of the mirror, turning left and right to eye the blossoming bruises for the last few training sessions with Spock. When he lifts him arm to feel the way he can’t quite move it right he notices the curling edges of the skin patch where the steam and water have loosened it.

He could just ignore it, peel it off and replace it when he’s back in his quarters and he can’t see it, he knows he should, but he just can’t. Within seconds he’s teasing the edges of the patch, trying to get his bitten nails under enough to get a grip. He finally pulled it off with an eye watering yank, complete with what felt like half his skin.

It’s far more painful than he ever remembered it being and between the steam and the pain he feels suddenly dizzy. The world tilts and goes black.

“-Captain! Captain, can you hear me?”

“Uurgh,” he tried to sit up but a firm hand on his shoulder kept him lying against the warm tiles of the bathroom floor.

It’s starting to come back and it’s already mortifying in a fuzzy sort of a way.

“Captain, you have injured yourself in a head-on collision with the counter. Now you have regained consciousness I shall summon Dr McCoy.”

“No, Spock, please. He’ll never let me live it down, just get me to sit down somewhere and I’ll be fine.”

“You are unnecessarily concerned with the doctor’s opinion of you, however experience tells me I shall be unable to reason with you. Allow me to assist you instead.”

It’s only as Spock helps him to his feet that he realises the full awkwardness of the situation.

“I’m naked.”

“Yes, Captain. I had observed.”

He can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and knows he must be bright red.

“You know what? I think I can look after myself.”

“Your nakedness is of no concern to me, however your health is of high importance,” Spock’s tone brooks no argument and he firmly guides Jim out of the bathroom with a solid arm around his waist.

It’s only when Spock helps him to sit down that he realises that he has not been led him back to his quarters but instead through the door that leads to Spock’s own. His naked ass is on Spock’s bed. Could things get much worse?

“Mr Spock, this may be the potential brain damage talking but I think you’ve brought me to the wrong place.”

Spock’s quirked eyebrow is probably an expression of derision but he’s still feeling rather off and there’s a lump on the front of his head that’s radiating pain so his perception might be a bit off.

“You need to rest but you must be woken approximately two hours to check for signs of brain damage. If you sleep here I will be able to meditate and complete paperwork whilst caring for you with minimal disruption.”

“Wow, Spock, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Remain here whilst I retrieve your clothing.”

Jim allowed himself a few moments to gaze around Spock’s quarters. Not that he’d never been here before, but when Spock was around he felt too obvious to actually nosey at his First’s rooms.

“I found these garments in your bed. I hope they are sufficient.”

He let Jim pull on his own underwear but when he reached for his tee he was stopped.

“I shall assist, Captain. I have noticed your range of movement is restricted.”

Feeling rather like a coddled child he raised his arms as best as he could, knowing it was futile to protest.   

Spock froze. Not a tiny little flicker that he’s learnt to read as a freeze, not even a momentary pause of surprise, quickly smoothed over. No, it’s a full on stop, eyes glued in place, not even breathing.

“Spock?”

His First doesn’t reply but he does move, reaching out a gentle hand to brush over the sore, newly revealed skin under his arm.

“Spock?”

“T’hy’la,” his first breathes, “I had hoped, barely dared to hope. T’hy’la.”

“Spock, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I am sorry, my Jim, I lied to you. I was ashamed and I lied to you.”

Spock’s fingers are still running over his soul mark and he’d forgotten all about it – maybe he does have a concussion, he seems to be losing track of a lot this evening.

“Are you – Spock?”

“Vulcan’s do not possess soul mate marks. I, however, am not completely Vulcan and do possess one.”

“And?”

“It is a word in the Vulcan language, T’hy’la, meaning friend, brother, lover. Perhaps the closest meaning in standard would be soul mate. I have always been ashamed. It became known to my school mates that I possessed a mark. They inferred that my psionic abilities were weak and so I needed help with locating a suitable mate. I was ridiculed.”

Logically there’s only one reason that Spock would be telling him any of this but he scarcely dare ask.

“Is that… is that what mine says.”

“Do you not know?”

“I covered it up. I didn’t want to know what it said. I guess I was scared.”

Spock let out a chuckle, a genuine chuckle and reached out a hand to card through Jim’s hair, stroking a thumb against the still throbbing lump.

“Yes, my Jim, you are my T’hy’la, my soul mate. Do you wish to see it?”

Spock moved to stand, perhaps to fetch a mirror, but Jim reached out with desperate hands to keep him close.

“I’d rather see yours.”

“Is this a subterfuge to convince me to remove my clothes?”

“Well, I’m still mostly naked so I think it’s only fair,” when Spock didn’t move he attempted to backtrack “You don’t have to, I mean. It’s fine if that’s not really what you’re in to.”

Spock cut him off by pulling his uniform shirt over his head and lifting his arm for Jim’s inspection. The mark looked nothing like he remembers, swirling black lines on tan skin. It’s beautiful.

“So… that’s it then. I’m yours and you’re mine?”

“If that is what you desire, Jim. We could return to how things were and never talk of this again. If you do not want me.”

“Yeah,” Jim said with a laugh “that’s really not a problem.”

“Then it is decided.” Spock looked slightly lost, standing there, arm at an angle “what shall we do now.”

“Well, I think a kiss would be a good place to start.”

Spock smiled again and let Jim pull him down on to the bed for what would prove to be an _excellent_ start.


End file.
